


Something fine built to last

by yourbuttervoicedbeau (kiwiana)



Series: Songs from the Jukebox [Prompt Fills] [16]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Early Days, Fluff, M/M, POV Patrick Brewer, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25282768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/yourbuttervoicedbeau
Summary: As soon as they open the door, Patrick realises that it’s — well, raining is really not a strong enough word. Absolutely bucketing down might be better. It’s coming down in sheets; the type of rain you know just by looking at it is going to soak you through in a second.David makes a small, distressed noise, and Patrick whirls to face him.“Oh God, your sweater.”
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Songs from the Jukebox [Prompt Fills] [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775569
Comments: 56
Kudos: 317





	Something fine built to last

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maxbegone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxbegone/gifts).



> For the Tumblr prompt [50 types of kisses #25: Wet kisses after finding refuge from the rain](https://yourbuttervoicedbeau.tumblr.com/post/623568801936654336/50-types-of-kisses-writing-prompts). Thank you for this one, it was gorgeous!!
> 
> Title is from the Spice Girls. (I will not be accepting criticism on this decision at this time 😂)

For their third date, they drive out to a gorgeous little Italian bistro in Elm Valley.

Truth be told, Patrick had been a little nervous about this restaurant. He knows David is well-travelled; he talks about trips to locations Patrick has only dreamed of visiting with enviable casualness, and he worried maybe this small-town version of international cuisine would be too low brow. But when they walk into Tutto Bene David gasps as he takes in the decor, and he only gets more animated as he reads the menu.

“God, I ate in so many places like this in Tuscany,” he says with a grin. “Little old nonnas who have taught their families how to cook, and now they own a restaurant.” He looks up at Patrick, his eyes shining. “This is incredible. Thank you for bringing me here.”

Patrick wonders if David is ever going to stop taking his breath away. He hopes not.

They drink Chianti and stuff themselves full of what David assures Patrick is authentic Italian cuisine until even David declares he can’t eat any more and they settle the bill before heading for the exit.

As soon as they open the door, Patrick realises that it’s — well,  _raining_ is really not a strong enough word.  _Absolutely bucketing down_ might be better. It’s coming down in sheets; the type of rain you know just by looking at it is going to soak you through in a second.

David makes a small, distressed noise, and Patrick whirls to face him.

“Oh God, your sweater.”

David shrugs, his mouth twisting. “It’s fine,” he says, but the words are obviously paining him and Patrick can’t quite choke back a laugh.

“David, today I started spritzing the vegetables while you were standing too close and you ran away. It’s clearly not fine.”

“It’s stupid,” David replies, wringing his hands. “It’s just a sweater. I don’t want to— it’s fine.”

Patrick is momentarily gobsmacked by hearing the words  _it’s just a sweater_ come out of David’s mouth, but then he takes a closer look at the distress on his face and in a flash, he thinks he gets it. Between David’s deeply upsetting jokes and Alexis’ cutting comments, he’s heard enough to figure out that David has spent his entire life trying to avoid being  _too much_ ; trying to make himself fit into whatever space his partners were willing to carve out for him.

He hasn’t figured out, yet, how to tell David that he should take up whatever space he needs. That he could never be too much, not to Patrick. And it’s probably too early for those sorts of declarations anyway.

“Right,” he says in lieu of voicing any of that. “You wait here. I’ll go get the car and pull it up as close as I can to the doors for you.”

David bites his lip, clearly torn. “Are you sure?”

Patrick steps in close, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Absolutely.” He takes a deep breath, steeling himself, and then he steps out from the shelter of the building and into the rain.

He was right about what kind of rain it is. It slices through him immediately, making him feel heavy as he jogs as quickly as possible through the carpark. He fumbles with his keys before he reaches his car, not wanting to spend a second longer in this than absolutely necessary; he yanks open the car door as quickly as possible and practically throws himself inside to escape the downpour. He turns the heater on full blast to try and dry them off a bit faster before he starts the car, windscreen wipers beating furiously as he navigates the carpark. He pulls up as close to the curb as he can get without actually hitting it before reaching over and flinging open the passenger door just as David makes a run for it.

“Holy shit,” David gasps as he pulls the door shut behind him. He would have been in the rain less than five seconds total, but that was enough; his usually perfectly styled hair is hanging lank, plastered to the sides of his face as water drips down his neck. He looks... messy, and imperfect, and so gorgeous Patrick is leaning over to kiss him almost before he realises. David doesn’t seem to be complaining, though, letting go of the seatbelt he was halfway through putting on to frame Patrick’s face in his (cold, and slightly damp) hands to kiss him back with fervour. He’s just starting to swipe his tongue along David’s lower lip when a car horn beeps behind them and they jump apart, a little sheepish. Patrick clears his throat, pulling away from the curb as David fastens his seatbelt and letting the car behind them take their spot, having obviously had the same idea.

They’ve been driving less than five minutes when David huffs. “Okay, this isn’t— I have to get this off,” is all the warning Patrick gets before David starts  _stripping_ , peeling the wet sweater over his head while Patrick white-knuckles the steering wheel and tries to keep his eyes on the road. David twists in his seat to lay the sweater carefully out on the back seat before settling back down, and it’s not until then that Patrick risks glancing over. David is left in just a white t-shirt; it’s still damp from his brief excursion into the elements, and it’s... well.  _Clinging_ is the only word Patrick can think of right now.

Before he can think about it, he hits the indicator and pulls the car off the side of the road. He unclips his seatbelt as David turns to him, a question forming on his face; Patrick grabs a fistful of fabric and hauls him in for a frantic, messy kiss before he can voice it.

David’s laughing against his lips, he can feel it. “Hang on,” he mumbles, but he doesn’t pull away, deepening the kiss even as he unbuckles himself and can finally turn to face Patrick properly, sliding the hand with his rings along the back of Patrick’s neck, making him shiver. They stay like that for what feels like hours but is probably only a few minutes, tongues exploring each other’s mouths as Patrick slowly lets go of the t-shirt and lets his hands start to explore David’s chest over the thin material.

“We’re still going slow, right?” David gasps when he finally pulls away, his eyes dark and slightly glazed over.

“Well,” Patrick says, leaning over to fumble with the lever until he manages to push the passenger seat back, before clambering into the lap of a startled and delighted David Rose. “Slow-ish.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Come and find me on [Tumblr](http://yourbuttervoicedbeau.tumblr.com/).


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